The Sun. — London, England, 1838-05-03 00:00:00

THE DRAMA. THE ATHENIAN CAPTIVE. London, Moxon, 1338. We consider the Athenian Captive a very decided im provement on its predecessor. If it have no one conception equal in • purity and loftiness to that of /un, or sustained throughout with equal consistency, it has more variety of character, more incid en t an d an i ma ti on — mo re, in sh ort, of those qualities which constitute the essence of the drama. In lon, notwithstanding its many beauties of thought and style, our sympathies were but faintly in terested ; we admir e d ra th er t h e grace f u l p l ay o f f anc y o the poet, than the stirring action of the dramatist ; but in the Athenian Captive we find both combined. Here, we have th e polish and the purity, without the cold still life of sculpture —a nearer approach to warm, breathing humanity ; though still there are indications, and these not "frequent, that the author has been more solicitous to mellow a period, or work out a poetic image, than to develop° a passion. His most efficient passages are those which he ht e least laboured, and which seem to have escaped him unawares. A burst becomes him wonder fully ; and when thus excited, it is curious to mark how terse —bow pregnant with spirit—how full informed with familiar si mp licity—is his language, compared with what it is on ordinary occasions, when be thinks it necessary to maintain a certain uniform measured dignity of style. We wil l give an instance or two of what we mean. Here are so me passages, whose insliration no man can doubt for an instant. They come " warm of the heart and faithful to its fires." THOAS.—FooI ! fool ! away ! [Exit HI t.t.us.] Ile's gone —yet she is with me still, with looks Moro terrible than anger ; take away That patient face—l cannot bear its sweetness." • • . • • . • • • PENTutus—Fret not thy noble nature with what is past. „,T, "As—No ! 'ti s no t pas t ; th e mur d erer has no p a st, ts one eternal present ! . . . . . HYLLUS.—Yes, all.—Alas I Creusa, He died in anger wills me." . • • • • • CREL'SA •—•And what have I To do with happiness? I am not young, grew old i n moments c h arg 'd w i t h l ove And anguish. Nothing can possibly be more successful than these pas sages. And why are they so? Simply because nature is not overlaid by art in them ; because they are the familiar, unsophisticated language that genuine feeling always dic tates' Real passion has neither leisure nor patience to con sider the eleganvies of expression. It eschews a simile, And comes stern and direct to the point. We feel that We cannot too highly praise the sterling dramatic spirit manifest in the above extracts ; yet we fear the author would be more gratified were we to give the pre ference to the following, in which he has laboured to pro duce an effect, solely by dint of a certain curiosa felicitas of expression. The first, is a young warrior's apostrophe to his sword, whose besetting defect is that it is too minute and elaborate in description—in fact, too much of a set, Premeditated burst of emotion, though full of grace and dignity : TR OAS—(taking off his helmet.) To a most noble hand I yield the glories of existence up, And bid them long adieu! This plume, which now Hangs motionless, as if it felt the shame Its owner bears, wav'd in my boyish thoughts Ere I was free to wear it, as the sign, The dancing- image of my bounding hopes, That imag'd it above a throng of battles, Waving where blows were fiercest. Take it hence— Companion of brave fancies, vanish'd now For ever, follow them [Elvue s takes the helmet from THOM, and passes it to Lye us.] 'Tis nobly done: No doubt that it again shall clasp thy brow, And the plume wave in victory. Thy sword ? Forgive me : I must filch it for awhile : Hide it--0 deem it so in idle sport, And keep thy chidings, till I give it back Again to smite and spar e . THOAS. To generous youth Permit my depth of sorrow to be cairn, Unruffled by vain hope. (Takes off his sword.) Farew e , ol Thou w ert the b r i g h t i n h er i tance whichll grac' d sword,d illy finished years of boyhood —all that time And fortune spar'd of those from whom I drew The thirst of greatness. In how proud an hour Did I first clasp thee with untrembling hand, Fit thee, with fond exactness, to my side, And in the quaint adornments of thy sheath Guess deeds of valour, acted in old time By some forgotten chief, whose generous blood r felt within my swelling veins 1 Farewell! Th e second is a conversation that takes place between a Greek conqueror and his captive, where one is en deavouring t o console the other, though in a style , however i gracefully worded, yet surely inappropriate , see in g that it s Made up of mere vague description : Lvc us .--(Advaneing.)--The time is spent Beyond the king's allowance : I must lead The captive to the court, where he may meet His fellows, find his station, and put on The habit he must wear. TIIOAS.—Do I hear rightly? Must an Athenian warrior's free-born limbs 13e clad in withering symbols of the power By which man marks his property in flesh, Bones, sinews, feelings, lying Nature framed For human? They shall rend me piecemeal first l HyLLus—Thoas—friend—comrade,—recollect thy word, Which n ow t o b rea k were wo rse disgrace than power Can,, , fix upon thee, bids thee bear awhile ' 1 , 1 ', 11 idle s h ame . I s h a ll b e p rou d t o wa lk ' ''"ener at thy side, while generous thoughts • And arts of valour, which may make them deeds, Enrich roY youth. Soon shall we VaPe the court, Ply the small bark upon the summer sea, Gay careless voyagers, who leave the shore With all its vain distinctions, for a world . pf . dancin g f oam and light ; till eve invite ~. S o some tall cavern, where the sea-nymphs raise eet melodies • there shalt thou play the prince, And I will put thy slavish vestments on, And yield thee duteous service ;—in our sport Almost as potent as light Fortune is, Who in her wildest freaks but shifts the robe Of ,-ircumstance, and leave s th e h ear t s it clotli'd ` Unehi2oged and free as ours. There arzi places, however, in which description is most ppropriate, and here it is in perfect keeping. Anything truer—cliaster—or wore thoroughly imbued with the ele ated classic spirit, is Dot be found in English literature han this sketch of Athens by an Athenian. It should be ,bserved also what a fine hutuanity is breathed into the 'assage, by the closing, allusion to the associations of home. : TIIOAII. From Athens ; Her groves ; her halls ; her temples ; nay, her streets Have been my teachers. I had else been rude,For I was left an orphan, in the charge Of an old citizen, who g - ave my youth Rough th oug h kind nurture. Fatherless, I made The city and her skies my home ; have watch'd Her various aspects with a child's fond love ; Hung in chill morning o'er the mountain's brow, A , id, as the dawn broke slowly, seen her grow Majestic from the darkness, till she fill'd The sight and soul alike ; enjoy'd the storm Which wrapt her in the mantle of its cloud, While every flash that shivered it revealed Some exquisite proportion ; pictur'd once And ever t o the gazer ; stood entranc'd In rainy moonshine, as one side, uprose A column'd shadow ponderous as the rock 'Which h e ld the Titan groaning with the sense Of Jove's injustice ; on the other, shapes Of ch earn-like softness drew the fancy fk,r Into the glisteni ng air ; but most I felt Her loveliness when summer evening tints Gave to my lonely childhood sense of home. . 11 ere is ano th er i nstan ce of the startling effects T tl hs ie , Fl".,l°fnurk' sometimes pouces by the simplest means. nelson in itali c r s p produces by the simplest means. This iflsrked in italics possess tremendous emphasis. The Hall of Statues in the Palace. TIIOAS.—Again I stand within thy awful hall; 1 found the entrance here, without the sense Of vision ; for a foul and clinging mist, Like the damp vapour of a long-closed vault, ..1 4 round me . N ow i ts o bj ects start to s i g h t W ith terrible distinctness I Crimson stains Break sudden on the walls I The fretted roof Grow s livin g ! Let me hear a hun.an voice, Or I shall play the madman I Enter ISNIENi . richly dressed. Of one bid thee welcome, with the rapturous heart °ne, for whom thy patriot arm hath wrought Deliverance and revenge—but more for Athens * for myself, I hail thee : Why (lost droop ? Art thou oppressed with honors. as a weight Thou wert Aot born to carry ? I will tell That which will show thee native to thy load, And will requit thee with a joy as great As that thou bast conferred. Thy life was bid heneath inglorious accident, till force Of its strong current urged it forth to day. To glisten and expand in Sun-light. Know That it has issu'd from a fountain great As is ite destiny —Thou bbarest with Inc The blood of Theseus. A father's feelings are simply and justly hinted at in tl:e "'awing passage If thou ;yea A father,qhou, wouldst know a father's love 'Mid nature's weakness, for one failing sense Still finds another sharpen'd to attend Its • finest ministries. Unlike the pomps That make the dregs of life more bitter, this This can sweeten even a King'?. There is more sustained energy in this passage than is usua with the author : IsmENE. Nov_ shall I clasp him--- Clasp him a victor o'er my country's foe?— The slayer of him most hated. Double trap port ! The dream of great revenge I lived upon Was never bright with image of such joy, And now comes link'd with vengeance ! Thoas, haste The character of a proud, lofty mind subdued to its condition, and too magnanimous to complain, is well dt picted in the subjoined passage : CsEoN—How does the proud Athenian bcar his part In servile duty ? LYCUS—I have never seen So brave a patience. The severest toils Look graceful i❑ him, from the facile skill With which his strength subdues them. Few his words By question drawn, yet gentle as a child's ; And if,•in pauses of his work, his eye Will glisten, and his bosom heave ; anon • He starts as from a dream, submissive bows, And plies his work again. The following energetic burst is admirably suited to Macready's fervid and impetuous declamation. It breathes the spirit of true Greek patriotism, as it might have glowed in the bosom of a Pericles. Togas —Ruin to Athens ! who dares echo that ? Who first repeats it dies. These limbs are arm'd With vigour from the Gods that watch above Their own immortal offspring. Do ye dream, Because chance lends you one insulting hour, That ye can quench the purest flame the Gods Have lit from Heaven's own fire ? HyLLus (trying to appease the gue3ts)—'Tis ecstasy— Some phrenzy shakes him. THOA !I—NO I call the Gods, Who bend attentive from their azure thrones, To witness to the truth of that which throbs Within me now. 'Tis not a City crown'd With olive and enriched with peerless lanes Ye should dishonour, but an opening world Diviner than the soul of man bath yet Been gifted to imagine—truth serene, Made visible in beauty, that shall glow In everlasting freshness ; unapproached By mortal passion ; pure amidst the blood And dust of conquests ; never waxing old; But on the stream of time, from age to age, Casting bright images of heavenly youth To nuke the world less mournful. I behold them And ye, frail insects of a day, would quaff " Ruin to Athens !" The character of Ismene is distinctly developed in the following passage, which is marked by all Mr. Talfourd's peculiarities of diction :-- ISNISNE—(aIon-e) It is the heroic form Which I have seen in watching, and in sleep Frightfully broken, through the long, long, years Which I have wasted here in chains, more sad Than those which bind the death-devoted slave To his last stony pillow. Fiery shapes, That have glar'd in upon my bed to mock My soul with hopes of vengence, keep your gaze Fiz'd steadfast on me now !my hour is nigh ! [Exit. There is exquisite purity of sentiment in this dialogue be tween Creusa and Thoas, and which is fortunately set off, not encumbered, by the strain of poetry that pervades it— CREUSA.-0 do not fling away thy noble life, For it is rich in treasures of its own, Which Fortune cannot touch, and visioned glories Shall stream around its bondage. TIIOAS..—I have dream'd Indeed of greatness, lovely one, and felt The very dream worth living for, while hope, To make it real, surviv'd ; and I have lov'd To image thought, the mirror of great deeds Fed by the past to might which should impel And vivify the future ; blending thus The aims and triumphs of a hero's life. But to cheat hopeless infamy with shows Of nobleness, and filch a feeble joy In the vain spasms of the slavish soul, Were foulest treachery to the God within me. No, lady, from the fissure of a rock, Scath'd and alone, my brief existence gush'd A passion'd torrent; let it not be lost In miry sands, but having caught one gleam Of loveliness to grace it, dash from earth To darkness and to silence. Of a similar refined and elevated character is the follow ing : Enter Hmus, CREUSA meeting him. Brother, join thy thanks To mine. [llvuus and CREUSA Pnittiace. TnoAs.—No more, [Retiring. Grant, ye immortal gods, So beautiful a bond be never broken! Exit TnoAs. CREUSA.—IIe speaks of tasks. My brother, can'st endure To see a hero who bath twice preserv'd Thy life--upon nhose forehead virtue sits Enthron'd in regal majesty—thus held In vilest thraldom ? HYLLUS.—Ah ! my sweet Creusa, Thy words breathe more than gratitude. CREUSA.—My brother, I pray thee, do not look into my face. HYLLUS.—Nay,raise thy head, and let thine eye meet mine ; It reads no anger there. Thy love is pure And -noble as thyself, and nobly plac'd ; And one day shall be honor'd. CREUSA.—Spare me ! We find we have somewhat trespassed on our usual limits ; but as we have marked several more extracts, at random, and are unwilling to reject them, we insert them without comment, in the full conviction that their merit will speak for itself. We roust not omit to notice, however, the exquisite tenderness of 'llioas's address to his mother : HYLLUS.— One I'm proud to claim my master in great war; With whom contesting, I have tasted first The joy which animates the glorious game Where fiercest opposition of brave hearts Makes them to feel their kindred;—one who spared me To grace another fight,—the sudden smart His sword inflicted, made me vainly rush To grapple with bim ; from his fearful grasp I sank to earth ; as I lay prone in dust, The broad steel shiv'ring in my eyes, that strove To keep their steady gaze, I met his glance, Where pity triumph'd ; quickly he return'd His falchion to its sheath, and with a hand Frank and sustaining as a brother's palm, Upraised me ;—while he whisper'd in mine ear, " Thou halt dar'd well, young soldier,"—our hot troops Environ'd him, and bore hirr,from the plain Our army's noblest captive. THOAS.-Had I been born to greatness, or achieved My fame, methinks that I could smile at this ; Taste a remember'd sweetness in the thought Of pleasure snatch'd from fate ; or feed my soul With the high prospect of serene renown Beetling above this transitory shame In distant years. But to be wither'd thus— In the first budding of my fortune, doom'd To bear the death of hope, and to outlive it Gods, keeps me patient I I will to my task. • • • • • • CaEusa—Let me • have • leave . to thank him. (Exeunt IPIIITUS and Lveust—enter THOAS. Hero 1 accept a maiden's fervent thanks, All that she has to offer for a life Most precious to her. TlMAS—Speak not of it, fair one 1 Life, in my estimate, 's too poor a boon To merit thanks so rich. CREusA--Not such a life As his to me. We both together drew Our earliest breath, and one unconscious crime Shared ; for tha hour that yielded us to day Snatch'd her who bore us. Thence attach'd we grew, As if some portion of that mother's love Each for the other cherish'd ; twin-born joys, Hopes, fancies, and affections, each bath watched In the clear mirror of the other's soul, Illy that sweet union doubled. Thou hast sav'd Two lives in saving Hyllus. . . . . . . • ' • CREVSA.—If thou wilt haste, I'll tell thee when we meet In safety,—if we ever meet again ! THOAS.—And dost thou wish it? CREUSA.--DO I wish it? Yes ! And on the swift fulfillment of that wish My life is wager'd. Tuoass—There is more than life To me in these sweet words—speak them again— But no ;—once heard they linger on the ear Which drank them in for ever. Shapeless rocks That witness to the sound, rejoice ! No fane Of alabaster while the breeze has slept In circling myrtles, and the moon disclossel Young love's first blush to the rapt eyes of him who happy boldness rais'd it, rivals you In sanctity which rich affection lends To things of earthly mould. Methinks ye spring Rounded to columns; your dark mists are curl'd u pwEr ag in heav'nly shapes, and breath perfume, Which Delicious cveer y h t o niche which waithouci. ,T aught wtheeru bliss speeds To dwell for ever here. CREUSA—O linger not; The watch will change at midnight. Titol.s--Midnight , Jove I cannot go. p CaltusA—Not go I ask no thanks.— Noof savingrecense_no boon—save th e d e li g h t thee ; for this I've peril'd f o ife, free m, fame—and now thou t e ll' s t me , prou d one, o That l;t4ye peril'd all in vain. , • ISMENE. 1 1 4 it • pass single grief—a short and casual wrog—, Which—in that sense of ages past and hopes Replendent for the future, which are center'd In the great thought of country, and make rich The poorest citizen who feels a share In her—is nothing. IPHITUS—Ismene. Speak : Dost thou know the slayer ? ISMENE—Yes ! IPHITIIS—Dost thou— Behold him now ? ISMENE (looking wildly round)—l do not see the faces Or know the names of all. Who is the man That at the right side of the circle stands ? lentrus—The youth with head erect and cloudless brow? That is the orphan'd Hyllus. ISMENE--Who is he That sits upon the other side, apart, With face averted ? [Thoas turns his head suddenly, and loo' , :s upon her, ] I behold him now. It is a dreadful duty you exact From MC—a woman. If I speak the name, What sentence follows? INtirtTs—Death ! ISMENE— And soon performed ? humus—The Fates require that he thou shalt denounce As guilty, must bo, led in silence hence, And none behold him after, save his slayers. Attend once more ! Thou bast declared tl - At know'st The guilty one !—I ask thee—is he here ? ISMENE—O Gods ! He is. Inures—Name him ! CALCHAS—She shudders ?—See— IPMTUS—I think she cannot speak I If quivering tongue Rufuse its office, point the victim out. [lsmEsE rises: —turns towards luoAs, who rises, an d confronts her; she trembles, pauses, and resumes he, seat.] Thou hast confess'd the guilty one is here : Where stands he ? [IaMENE rises:—points to HYLLUS shrieks " There!' and falls back senseless in her chair.] Tuoa.s—'Tis false! [CRFI:SA rushes _forward And embraces HYLLUS.] CREUSA—Most false ! 0 murderess ! Protect him, noble Ttioas ! If thou remain, And risk dishonour to our house and me, The poisonous cave below shall be my And shelter me far ever ! TIIOAS.— Thou art brave, As fits a matron of heroic line; Be great in penitence, and we shall meet Absolv'd, where I may join my hand to thine, And walk in duteous silence by thy side. ISMENE.—And couldst thou love me, then ? TIIOAS.— Love thee I My mother, When thou didst speak that word, the gloom of years Was parted—and I knew again the face Which linger'd o'er my infancy—so pale, So proud, so beautiful ! I kneel again, A child, and plead to that unharden'd heart, By all the long past hours of priceless love, To let my gushing soul pass forth in gr tee, And bless thee in its parting We are aware that this is a very imperfect, sketchy notice of a drama that deserves far mare attention than we have bestowed on it, but we were anxious to lose no time in giving our readers an idea of the many beauties, both of thought and sentiment, in which it abounds. That none but a scholar could have penned it, is evident from indications that occur in every page ; among others, we may mention the happy allusion to " the dusky wall of shields,' which was suggested no doubt by a recollection of the bull hides alluded to by Homer in his sketch of Ajax, and which a mere dabbler in classic lore would never have dreamed of. And now, in conclusion, if we are asked the question of, whether the play will be successful or not ?—un hesitatingly we answer, Yes ; and this to a very considerable extent. True, it is pitched throughout in a lofty key— and humanity is sustained at the highest point of mental elevation throughout it—but our sympathies are kept in cessantly on the alert; for we feel that weare in the presence, not of abstractions and mere poetic idealisms, but of real flesh and blood. The love scenes are few, and the passion is rather hinted at, than developed ; still it is genuine, and will be appreciated. Of the plot and conduct of the story we have forborne to speak, for it might be injurious to both author and dramatist, prematurely to reveal too much. We may say, however, that they are adroitly contrived and unra veled. The chief character, that of Thoas, will, of course, he played by Macready,aml sure we are that i t will be one of his most successful impersonations, for he has every requisite for the task—taste—feeling—graceful scholarship—and a perfect knowledge of his art. We ca❑ imagine with what grace and propriety he will deliver this truly poetic passage : He caught the floating reins, And drew them into safety with a touch So fine, that sight scare witness'd it. The prince Is in his father's arms. We conclude our notice by an extract from the author's preface, in which he alludes feelingly, to the situation of Mr. Macready as Manager of Covent-Garden. Such a tribute of respect is as honourable to him on whom it is bestowed, as on him who bestows it. had ob r tea thani n e d The existence of the f o ll ow i ng scene s is entirely t o b e at. tributed to the earnest d es i re w hi c h I f e l t , t o ass i st , even in the slightest degr ee , t h e en d eavour w hi c h M r . M acready has c made e n t ht seasd' witr t e n u the o c ue se for of t h a e s s a o c c t i e a d t i D o n r am i a . Mo with the living influences of scenic representation, in the in dulgence accorded to lon, I should have postponed all thought of again venturing before the public, until years had brought leistire, which might enable me to supply, by l a b our and by care, what I knew to be wanting in the higher requisites of tragic style. But I could not perceiie a gentleman, whose friendship I had long enjoyed, forsaking the certain rewards of his art, and the tranquil pleasures of domestic life, to eng age in the chivalrous endeavour to support a cause, which I b e l; eve to be that of humanity and of goodness, and which seemed almost desperate, without a feverish anxiety to render hint as sistance, and perhaps a tendency to mistake the w ill for the power: The position of the two great theatres—with a legal monopoly, which has been frittered away piecemeal without recompense, until nothing remains but the debts which were contracted on the faith of its continuance, and the odium of its name—opposed to a competition with numerous establish ments, dividing the dramatic talent and dissipating the dra matic interest of the town—rendered the determination of Mr. Macready to risk his property, Isis time, and his energies in the management of one of them a subject of an interest almost painful. Impressed with this sentiment, at a time when it was unforeseen that one of the most distinguished of our authors would lend his aid—when no tragic creation of Knowles "cast its shadow before," with its assurance of power and of beauty —when the noble revivals of Lear and of Coriulan US were only to be guessed at from those of _Hamlet and Macbeth--I deter mined to make an attempt, marked, I fear, with more zeal than wisdom. Having submitted the outline of this drama to the friend and artist most interested in the result, and having ri?- ceived Isis encouragement to proceed, I devoted my little vaca tion of Christmas to its composition ;—and, with the excep tion of some alterations (for the suggestion of the principal of which I am indebted to him), succeeded so far as to finish it before the renewal of other (I can hardly say) severer labours. Whether I may succeed in doing more than thus gratifying my own feelings, and testifying their strength by the effort, is, at this time, doubtful ;—but, in nu event, shall I regret having made it. GERMANY. - THE SUN, LONDON, THURSDAY, MAY 3, 1838. WHAT ARE THE WANTS OF THE MIDDLE CLASSES? A LETTER TO COUNT A-, (Translated from a Paper prepared and suppressed at Leipsic, with the following mottos :—) IS A celebrated man, with a great mind in a little body, used to say, If the boat incline too much to one side, I place the weight of my little body on the other side.' " " So much in justification of the publication of the follow ing letter. In times like ours, when the boat rocks violently, not only through the power of the waves, but through the restless moving about the crew, it seems the duty of every g ood citizen, if he think that he has formed a well-grounded opi nion, loudly to express that opinion. I do, like the above mentioned great man—l place the little weight of my op inion on that side where increased weight seems wanted." •'lt is possible that the title of these pages may remind t he reader of a pamphlet, which, in the beginning of the Fren ch Revolution, acted like the tocsin. lam conscious that as far as good intentions are concerned, I may rather be compared to that small number of Frenchmen, who, pointini , to Eng land as an example, would willingly have prevented the days of terror, had not those in power despised their advice. We have time to talk and take counsel, for where Mr. Von S. is ambitious of being helmsman, the vessel is not likely to run against rocks, but only to be laid high and dry upon sand banks." It is now a-days much more difficult to govern than for merly. Not only in the provinces, on the left banks of the Rhine, which were formerly incorporated with France, and which now belong mostly to Protestant Princes, is the task of Governments a troublesome one, from the great diffi culty of satisfying the governed—but all over Germany, in the old Provinces which have not changed their rulers, it is the same--not only in Protestant countries, or in Catholic countries governed by Protestant- Princes, but also, and indeed more, in Catholic countries where Catholic Princes reign, has the task of Governments become more difficult. The demands of the governed have increased. What Go vernments do, or omit to do, is now the object of daily eriticigin—a get eral uneasiness prevails—even where fur the moment there it; no sound of war heard. Twenty attempts have been made to disturb the peace of Europ . o since the Prince of Elba drove the King of France out of his dorninj , ns. and took possession of France in less time than the unitel aTiny of tl tc n9rth paid gf the 59401 conquer R. jS r o clear seeing politician, Tegt of 40,11e_who has for the last quarter of a century guided, from his elev.ated positioi the.destinies of Europe, can be blind to the danger the • iome trifling disturbance, no matter whence proceeding nay serve as the. spark to muse a far spreading eonflagn, tion. Where thereexists a strong tendency to cholera, tl:• smallest sin against the rules of diet may produce th, deadly disease. The American revolution began with : •►•ar waged against tca-chests, but their minds were long prt pared for resistance. In the greatest parts•of Europe th , lisposition' of the people, not alone of the young, is tendin, ta disease. Formerly all their energies were directed towards on person. Nqpoleon fell, and now the opposition points is different directions ; but of peace there is so little in the mind, that a continued apparatus for war is kept in reach. miater and more formidable than any which former mturies have known. This-not-to-be-mistaken spirit of discontent and un.utsi iess which moves the European world, and shows it .i2;htning flashes now here, now there, is attributed in th 'iigher circles most usually and oftenest to the ambitiOl. If the middle ranks, and it is with reference to the languag, the sal3ns of Berlin and Vienna that the title of then, cages has been chosen. What then, indeed, are the want, of the Middle classes ? Do they want our mansions ? out places of honour ?' or our heads? Are the wants of the middle ranks in Germany really the same as those of tin. Jacobins in France, a complete subversion of the thron Ind of the altar ? Why do the citizens of to-day no longer remain quite at their trades, within the protection of their walls, like their fathers and grandfathers ? Why are the peasants disturbed and made to leave their father's cottages, to throng into cities, or to fill emigrant ships ? Thos, wl:o are not quite bigotted ask these questions—they askfor the causes of the above effects at least from curiosity ; and to those is this my attempt at an answer directed. To at tempt to teach those who turn away entirely from the sub ject, who confine themselves to the circles of the elite, which admit. only those who perform the part of parasites, would be an idle, useless waste of time. It might be con venient to answer the above questions with counter ques tions ; for example—Why, if the good old times are to be restored, and if it be possible to recall them, is not the be ginningeto be made with the beginning ? Why is not the German Empire and the ten circles to be restored ? Why do not the Knights take the defence of the country and the towns exclusively upon themselves, without calling upon the citizens for assistance ? • Why are all the sons of , itizens and of peasants called upon to serve as soldiers ? Why, are they to share the duties without partaking of the honours? But the intention of these pages is rather to convint e than to ittriid the question. The danger of the times is acknowledged on all sides by ;ill who neither are, nor want to be blind, and I confess that the impression with which I have just returned from a journey is a most unfavourable one, as far as the chanccs of peace in Europe are concerned. It is true the sound of arms is not to be heard in Germany; and poinards are, God he thanked, not a German fashion, but the minds are deeply agitated every where. In France or in England public men are fond of speaking on political subjects with men who think differently from them, and whose position is at a great distance from their own—they want to hear the views of those parties most opposed to them. This is not the case with us. Those at the head of affairs dislike to hear views and opinions op posed to their own, whether from the press or in conversa tion. German politicians, therefore, ace situated like ab solute sovereigns—they are surrounded by flatterers, who echo only what maybe agreeable to the great man. You, sir, have called upon me to give my opinion, and I willingly obey. Having acknowledged the existence of the political evil, let us first ascertain whether it may be, perhaps, a passing evil, or whether it is likely to last indefinitely. I believe the latter. The difficulty of governing will not decrease in the world, but rather increase. It will every where come to this, and it ought to be so, that only Ulysses should bear the bow which lie can bend ; that is to say, that the diffi cult problem of governing should be solved, by everywhere forming the Ministry of the cleverest and best informed men of the community ; who, superior to all others by their intelligence and talents, shall surround the Throne as its real supporters. This is the real remedy. Imagine an inferior man had to stand at the head of the Austrian Mi nistry, would Germany, France, Italywould Austria her self—have remained in peace ? That those most distin guished by knowledge and talents should stand by the side of the throne is consistent with the nature of things, with justice, and with common sense. To gratify this de mand is equally, beneficial to the throne and to the people. The question then is :—How shall we most securely obtain this end ? It is perfectly impossible that the world should henceforth be governed by inefficient men, who owe their appointment to the whim of the Prince, or the intrigues of his Mistress, or of his Confessor. That is the real question which agitates the present times. The system of the representation furnishes a machinery for securing to the most able among the people seats upon the Ministerial Benches ; for under a representative Government no day passes without a war of mind between the actual Ministers and the candidates for office. In the meantime the citizen may quietly follow his business, however warmly he may espouse the part of one or the other politician, and the Sovereign may. quietly look down from his elevated position upon the struggle, for the war is carried on publicly with intellectual weapons. Pub licity is the pledge that nothing illegal will take place ; t a i r i m a y te m ly an who wouldsil'ikiinpublichaose opinion, and t io o se ileg s l th a e l means power imme diately mischief. Happy tie Sovereign who, in war time,when about to chose a commander for his army, has only to choose among victorious heroes ; and the situation of the Sovereign is precisely similar, who when nominating his Ministers, has only to choose among individuals well-known, not only by their Parliamentary contests, but by the whole course of their official life, which is daily open to public criticism, as fit for the office and worthy of the confidence of the Sovereign and of the people. That the object of Governments which must without doubt for the present be Conservative, cannot be more easy of attainment in time to come, that it is therefore indispen sable to be armed with abundance of intellectual power, and not only with cannon in the arsenal, may be shown thereasc o from the one f a c t, that the division of the land has rea c h e d a d a ngerous point. Every foot of productive la n d, f rom t h e hi g h road to the lo w veryeve r e industrious, o f the forest, is y e garden, but su bdivided into so many small l o t s , th at among 'l‘Cil l ' i oo e children fam ilies,can liveon the produce of th e i r l an d and their labour. 'f'i grow up ; the numb er o f persons desirous for and demanding em p lo y ment increas es daily ; but there exist s te labour, nor provide prof ess i ona l employ no power in Gover nments to p r ovide land for the agricul tural labourer , cr eate a market for the endless produce of iiii:::tutfao(r'taulrlil may consider tisemselvesfit for it. Competi tion in all occupations and trades has increased, and is still increasing. The number of inhabitants in Prussia has in creased since 1814 by several millions, while no square foot of land has been added to the monarchy. This is one of the principal causes of the increased difficulty in the art of governing . , though this material cause is cer tainly not the only one. The accusation m a d e b y t h e h i gher circles, that th e s p irit of Jacobite= reigns in Germany among the middle ranks, and is the principal cause of the difficulty of governing, is palpably false. Every citizen who has a home wishes to keep that home inviolate, as well as every possessor of estates, like Prince Metternich wishes to retain his Johanisberg. Prince Metternich did not inherit this estate ; it has not been in his family time out of mind ; nevertheless it is his property—his own. He has ac quired it by means of merit and of successful labour. The greater number of German citizens is in a similar situation ; they possess what they have earned by honest labour, and they do not for that reason wish the less, or with less justice, for the continued security of their property, whether it be great or small. , Still the greater number are seized with the spirit of discontent and of uneasiness, because the question daily recurs—have the best measures been chosen for the maintenance of external and internal security in Germany What disinterested person can bring him self to answ e r this question with an unconditional affirma tive ? The Rhenish Provinces ask—,, Has the Military Commission of the German Confederation completed its labours ?" Englishmen ask—" Has Mr. Von Schele been impeached yet ?'• What can I answer ? It being thus ac knowledged that discontent and restlessness reign, a rum her of the most opposite measures have been proposed its a remedy. But only that statesman will be able to give good • advice who appreciates the future, who knows mankind as they are, and who can deduce from that knowledge what is likely t o h appen to-morrow. T i m comman d er w h o i s we ll acquaint e d w i th all the circumstances o f the last war , w ill not be, o f necessity, the most success f u l ; b u t r athe r lie who is able to jud ge w i t h some d egr ee of certainty of the pre sent proceedi ngs o f t h e enemy to w h o m he is opposed. Seine impolitic but influential statesmen in Germany have declared, like the Versailles courtiers of former days, that all the disturbances and all the political evils are caused by i n di v id ual ag i tators, an d b y th e un ions of ;mil. mistaken youths as are seduced by the agitators. A war has been carried on for a number of years, and with the most disproportionate means, against these twenty-yeare'e old de magogues. All the youths of Germasly have been calumni a t e d , without consideration of the youthful blood that w asf readily shod at leautzen and Bautzen, The perime nt h as b een made to war aga i nst f ee li ngs an d opie nions, an d to create an intellectual terdonrin the same way as the eepen Cordon san i ta i re. Both evall.e choked by a qatoi , monting attempt was made to shut out the i mag i ne d i n f ect i ve power o f t h e c h o vain. There are thins c. , kcluded, whether by police, by arms; impriso nment, or censorship. Other statesinete v4sea in Their own conceit, d o not on l y w i s h , b ut teac h t h a t ever y thi ng must be brought back to he ( A id standard, though they fire not quite agreed what exact moment of time in the; last century or centuries at which the current of society is. to be frozen and fixed for ever. When the admirers of the olden time have agreed upon this question it will be time enough seriously to oppose them. Until then a.few obser vations may suffice. Johauinsbeg and Daneberg were a few years ago in other.hands. How old is the royal dignity i.f of Bavaria and Wortemberg ? How old the grand-ducal title in Germany, or • the possession of HildeTheim awl Oelfriesland by their present owners ? How old the do,ni nion of Austria in Venice ? Verily age alone is not suffi cient ! You want to re-establish olden times, and you have not even the power to, and we trust, if you could you woul,' not again close the Sudestrange*. You praise the old, th • good old times, but are you sincere ? The first step would hi' to replace the splendour of the Imperial Crown. You do no. e msent to this, and therefore you sufficiently acknowledge that the olden times are gone by,and that the nobility cannot again get possession of its old privileges—its prospect; of electoral and other ecclesiastical benefice:, and its inclusive ights to the higher offices of the State—that a new time has come to which all must seek to adapt themselves, and 'o obtain security by all proper means. History will fur nish arms to both parties, and if the victor be allowed to refer to the battle fought two or three hundred years ago, surely the defeated may refer to the day before the battle was lost. Other statesmen . again declare the want of religion to be the cause of all the evils of our days, and teach that the building of churches, the restoring of altars, and the resto ration of ecclesiastical authority, is the only means of ma king the nation patient and obedient. To this end it has been attempted to. restore Church .Government here, through philosophy, or, rather sophistry ; there by means of Aesthetic, and in some places even by a tendency to Popery ; erroneously supposing, that the Priests would be always the ready servants of the' secular power. But t, use religion asa means to obtain worldly ends never yet has succeeded, and never can succeed ; and those who act with such a view prepare for themselves painful struggles with the newly aroused ecclesiastical powers. Of this there are many examples. But it is forgotten that history tells us how the degradation and the dismemberment of the Ger man Empire originated in the wars of the Emperors with the Powers of the Church, and its ungrateful Princes. The ignorant,•the hypocritical, and the women, who constitute the-greater number of the zealots of the present day, would in the moment of danger be but tin uncertain support. The example of real piety, of Christian humility, and . love, in the Sovereign's family, will form a beautiful and highly beneficial object of admiration for the whole nation. Religion- is the securest link in families as well as in em pires ; but Religion and Church are not identical ; the pure light of religion is equally shed upon many churches ! Re ligion itself is the' relation between. the Creator and the created, must be confined exclusively to these two, and cannot, therefore, exist but through a continually renewed revelation for every individual. Again, other statesmen, who call themselves practical, teach that the best means to make the active passions of the people harmless would be to open new and inviting paths to industry and wealth.. The people seek riches, they say, and, therefore, we must give them lotteries or labour. According to this plan they have erected splendid edifices, called Polytechnic Se'iools, believing they have found in them the true method to exo:- cise and subdue the evil spirit of the age. But this also is a mistake. No Government in the world can procure regular and remunerating employment for all those wh o have or have not been educated in these schools. A number of hungry operatives collect before the Palace, complaining of want, and demanding employment. " What sort of employment ?" "We have learnt nothing but to polish diamonds!" Every body will acknowledge that it is im possible to procure suitable employment for an indefinite number of such labourers. But the same holds good of a disproportionate number of surgeons, lawyers, or clergy. men ; or of those who work in steel, or gold, or wool, or cotton. Could any Government procure fee. these labourers broken limbs, lawsuits, church preferment, or rich buyers of cottons or shawls, for every day in the year ? Impossible! The greater the number of schools of industry' established by the State, with the direct or -indirect premiee of thereby providing employment for those willing to work, the more numerous become the demands on the Govern ment,- with which it is impossible to comply. In England there are no schools of industry at the expense of the State. Yet another class of statesmen, who deem themselves' the most cunning, believe the secret of Government to con sist in seducing individuals who have an kfluonoe with the public, and now and then in a popular author into a servi!o tool. If they succeed in any one instance of this kind, they rejoice aloud, and think they have gained their point. But by such single deierters the victory is not secured ; but the reward 'bestowed ou such apostates serves, on the contrary, to rouse and increase the wrath of those who re. main faithful to their cause and their party. It is an accusation against the nation that its reverence for - the 'Sovereign power is lessened. This is true, but how can it be otherwise ? Have we not lived to see the Im perial. Crown of Germany abdicated, and a new one of yes terday preferred before the Crown of a thousand years Have we not a painful recollection how the Crown of the 'Stranger, of the Invader of our country, wag*honoured by the Crawn.ed heads of -Germany ? The real means of our political salvation consists for the present, and for us as in - all times and everywhere, in the first call of ci‘i!ization, which is identical with the first law of morals—that is, that rude physical power is to be sub ordinate to intelligence ; untutored impulses to justice ; that the wise should rule over those less wise, as the father rules over his children whom he maintains. The wisest are to consult and to govern the country as the assistants of the Prince—as . the real Comites. What is justice in any one individual case every honest - man knows quite well, without having studied the codes of nations who have passed away. Jus tice is the only means to put an end to the unquietness of the public mind, or rather to confitht it within fixed bounds ; for movement within lawful bounds is necessary to the healthy existence of a nation, It would, indeed, be unfortunate if there were any other means for promoting public welfare on earth than justice. Ye Princes, acknow ledge and practice that which is just ! Ye Nations, be satisfied with nothing less than justice ! Ye Ministers, advise your Sovereigns only what is just ! The warning example is yet before our mind's eye. The most powerful man on the mightiest Throne, who • had bayonets and cannon at his command—to whom great talents were sub servient—who was himself a very personification of intelli gence—has sunk into the dust, because he disregarded the claims of justice ; and the beginning of his downward course may be traced to his first glaring violation of jus tice. And again ; the Sovereign to whom age ought to have taught experience, destroyed the Charter which pre scribed the duties and 'protected the rights of the French, and thus broke the chain which united.'the Prince and the people : and in three days he was hurled from his Throne. Learn and practice justice. Once more, and again —justice is the only means of political salvation for the present and for the future. All delusions are vain ; the main question, however, is—How can we secure the course of justice against the wild passions and the selfish ness of men ? This divides opinion in Hanover and out of it. Experience teachei that every one who possesses power is inclined to deviate from the course of justice to ensure that power ; and it is therefore concluded that the only way to secure justice being done to all, is to form a combina tion of several different Powers, which shall controul and balance each other.. The first generala nswer to th e ques tion, what do th e ,middle classes want ?—not enthusiasts, not the ignorant, not the plunderers, but men of property and experience, is, " Good citizens desire justice," To de scend, however, to particulars from this abstract proposi tion, the middle classes demand a powerful Crown, a power ful Aristocracy, and a powerful Commons, and that the rights of all three should be clearly defined. • *• The part of the town to which the Jews were confined, and which was'closed in every night by the Authorities. The opening of the Zoological Gardens, Chelten ham, is now finally determined to take place on the Queen's birthday, as originally intended. The Committees and Society purpose celebrating the -occasion by a public breakfast, after whioli the Gardens will he opened in due form, and the floral and horticultural exhibitions will take place on the ground.—Looker Oss. MARRIED NAVAL OFFICERS.—Lord St. Vincent never liked to hear of an officer getting married In war time. He would say, when uny one asked permission to go honie to England ibr a short period, " Sir, you want to go on shore and get married, and then you won't be worth your salt."—Brotton's Life of St. Vincent. MEDICAL SCIENCE.—The following apologue made by a physician, a man of wit and philosophy, represents the state of medical science. " Nature," says he, "is fighting with the disease. A blind man armed with a club, that is the physician, comes to settle the difference. He first tries to make peace. When he cannot accom plish this he lifts his club and strikes at random. If h e strikes the dis ease, he kills the disease; if he strikes nature, he kills natute." At the banquet to be given by the Conservative Members of the House of Cumutoos to Sir Robert Peel, on the ittth inst. at Merchant Tailors' MD, it is expected that of the fit I Members who have inserted their names in the list of hosts, aiie will be present per. squally so take part in the festival ; 'hie Marquis of Chandos is ap pointed Chairman, and the Hon. W. S. Lascelles, Vice.chairman. We understand that some of the most distinguished members of the House of Lords, the Duke of Wellington taking the lead., httintated their wish to, he included in the list of hosts ; but this was felt to be wholly incom patible with the principle 11Pckt tIIQ entertainment had been sug gested and assonged, Marshal Sault, it is undeistoodi ;weans to keep a hosektolie table at the seat of his speci?- 1 . embassy in Albemarle-sttoet, where he is expected to arrive in. a fortnight. We regret tQ announce the demise of Lord Mun caste!, wniet took place at Richmond en Monday last. His Lordship was a Peer of Ireland, and hem An the 14th December, 1802. He succeeded his f'-'411P'l l 1 11 ,0i):ille,r, the second Lord, on the 2fith./uly, 18 6c. By kia marriav WWI Frances Catherine, younge.st daughtet of Sir Joists liamstien, Bart., he has left a numerous infant fanail7 to deplore his premature demise. East Aru Qampany. has voted a sword, of gninos valne, to Captain Chads, for his exertions in suppres4ue icy IR the ihclian seas, ce , .. i. _ ~-'• _ ......Z - ‘,..4,-%;. , ,,":"1,' 1 • . '1 : 7, 1 t-.:::i.• / GENIERAI, AVERAGE PRICES OF BRITIS)4 C . 0 .1 4.17 „) . --- f -7 7- -, : - -..A.... -: ---,,,./ Fer th 3: Week: ended April ...7, ,9:IP, male up from the‘ll,etiatks44/ 11102 - L.:IN tnspecturi iii the difrerent Cities and Tqwns in Englaii•NlNWaleTtri l— lZ,' / Imperial Quarter. 'rT. Vc- ' r ) Ai i / 1 / 4 / Wheat r,9:: w. 1 ads 8ar1ey....,.... ":11: 9.1.. i Bye ..........3.2. 9.1. 1 Pease '3s. 711. MPERIAL AGGitECATE AVERAGES OF TILE SIX WPAKS • I . RECEDINC. ss; 3(.1 Oats 21s. 7d. 1 Beans 9 4 3 . Li. -- 2” 3, 91 ! Rye .... lls 10,1 1 Pease 32s. 114 MYT:XS ON FOREIGN CORN. Wheat........ 2P.s. Sd. , (tatsls.. 34. Beans . !Ms. 31, . Barley .... •.. ... 188. 44. ! nye •.. 2 :A. lid_' Price „. .:'is 34 Out of the one hundred and fifty towns from which the averagos are taken, the highest meekly average of Wheat v..as at Gui'dford, where it was 07s. 7ii., the lowest at Haverrordwest, where it was 538. 9d, CORN AVERAGES ‘N'lleat Barley THE MARKETS:-(THIS DAY). HUNGERFORD MARKET. Meat to.day.was not very briskets to teusinesi; y.r cei much a.B before. Beef to S.!, ; Veal 7d. to 9d ; Mutton 7d. to fq,l.; Fork 61d. to Bd. per lb. Fish to.day were fine in size and quality, hut d ,- arerin copse. cuenee The Vegetable Market begins to look more like the season; and Hay an.i Clover sliSw nn variation in plc& BILLINGSGATE MARKET. There was vcrylittle common fish at market io-day, and although there was a good supply of good fish, it fetched high priers. There were soma Cod as high asps. each ; common Salmon ls. Lest 4s. ; Soles, 9(1. to as. 6d. per pair; Lobsters as high as ss. for good ones Mackarel, 4d. to Bd. each. _ : .!s HAY MARKETS. Hay and Clover keep up their prices, al•hough the supply is good,and we are now in thu month of May. The demand continues good. Meadow - Hay, 85s. to 100 s.; Clover ditto, 100 s. ; Straw, 88s. and 4.5. - BALTIC AND CANADIAN PRODUCE MARKET. There is very little indeed stirring in these great departments of busi— ness; and in prices of '1 imher, Turpentine, and Ashes, no variation. Two large parcels of ‘ Hemp and Jute have heat put up to sale without finding buyers. COLONIAL MARKETS. B.P. Sugar sells steadily at former prices, and is very "firm. The lowest price is 525., middling, 565., best, 645. to 655. Refined is not securing much business, and the price of fine crushed is 345., Lumps to pass the standard, 755.. We have no public sales today of Colonial pro. duce; there is, however, little doing privately. Bengal, Mauritius, and Foreign Sugar, are steady. No alteration in the value of any kind of Coffee, and the market is flat. Tea is seeming a fair business at sale paces. Spices are also steady. Rice is very firm, Indigo continues to sell at sale prices, and is in fair dernand. Rum is quiet, and price s this week have not rdtered from those of last. The chief sales for to morrow are some small ones of Mauritius Sugar, some Mocha Coae and some Spices. The sales for to-morrow are all small. The imports were rather heavy yesterday; and we may say that to-day there is more business doing privately in most - articles. of Colonial produce. COAL MAR Per Too. 8. d. Adairs l9 3 DPan's Primrose li 0 Ellisan Low d4 . .in FeHim; Main li 0 Oa:est - 61d • IS 6 Holywell . - "2 0 Pieton Russell% Eligh;Main ..„-- •!i'oleicl Moor ~, 24 v Wylard -:i () ‘Valls End Bell and Brown .„ 24 tt \Vals End grace - „„,.... 20 0 Walls End Hildtk„ 22 0 Wit:li End ltltidell's %V itilz 1;lf id Walker "2,4 S Durham Main 'A 0 Walls Ent Ih - addyll's Iletton 2.3 6 Walls End Hutton ................'.•4 0 ShIN ArTiVeii. slue,' LICET.—May 2. • ecr Ton. 11. 4 Walls End latent ~a ... Walls E.d Iv:obern ...... t:2 .`: Walls Et' .Cstew.trt , , , ...... . '23 ~" 'Walls. and Hart h:pool 24 41 \Valle End Adelakb '• - 2' ? Wails Fed Gordon 4,4 " Walls End Nevin's Tar:Held_ 1S 0 Walls:End Seym,ur Tees ... 22 6 Walis End South .I)..rnam 22 ci wads End '''ees Waßs End Victoria Tees , ild 6 rtlythe l7 9 Brampton Main • l9 0 Walls End iiirtley 4! I 0 Iloward's Netherton Alain ... 18 . I • l, tilZ , oneoh Coal Stay olby Main last market-day, 11. COUNTRY CORN MARKETS DURING 'rue WEEK XV hoat. I Barley. ! Oats. 1 Beans. Pease. ---...-.... h rer Quarter. s. to 4. s. to s. s. t o s. a, to s. _s.CI a. Abi n gdou.. . 14 50 30 34 23 30 138 - - - Andover - 47 52 29 31 25 -- 1 4 5 - - -_ Birrnit3 a ilinni......,-. 06 4B 39 40 16 Sli .- 33 --, gridpor t ...... . 38 53 32 36 233 so 29 CireCirencester-4 4l 51 27 32 2v23 33 40 _. - - -- raringdon.--,,,. 333 46 29 50 26 30 - 411 - -. Guildleal ...-........... 39 54 23 33 20 30 - 16 - FlAtioy 42 55 1.11 32 23 26 - 41 -...-- ~.. /fere tord - - 40 -- V High w..rt 11 ...., 42 60 32 42 128 ' :34 - ad .- :- -. Nlaidellhead ..... 32 59 21 36 20 20 34 '44 34 ag M0wn9016....—. 46 4i sit 31 22 29 31 40 - - , ft;....ading ----....... at :.7 25 35 ,23 2; 33 42 35 - Sali , bury---.-, 44 81 30 54 ,20 2S 41 46 - - South:dal:tut; „.._ 45 51 5.5 40 .28 - It: - 42 - - Stroud ,- 36 44 iS 3 6 ' '2O ; 24 -- 46 -- '-'. IV,.•lieshory .....- tl'l -35-!2232 -- 40 - . ... Oxbridge ---„ 46 4B 29 52 jl7 28 40 -, 42 Wantage—,,,..-. 32 52 94 31 120253342 33 49 Wm-166144:e --. 3O 90 27 34 21.1 26 16 I ...1t - - Wlr,door 51) --- 91 22 r . . 25 - - Worcester..-...... 53 541 32 06 30 .. 32 -,- 46 46 49 LIVERPOOL COTTON MARKET, Mal 2, There was a large demand for Cotton at this day'S market, and though the article is offering snore freely, our last quotations were natty sustained. The total sales amount to 5,000 bags ;-4,200 American, 5.1 d; to 7id.; 150 Surat, 4,1. to 4id.; 200 Maranham, 7d. to 9d. ; 150 Egyptian, By. to 12J.; 200 Bahia 7, 1 ,d. to Stl. ; 100 Pernams Sid. to 9d.—Total 5,000 bags; LLOYD'S SHIPPING.-(THIS DAY.) Drat, MAY 2, seven 1.01. Wind S.s.E., light airs, with thunder a❑ lightning. —Sailed the outward bound, on their re,pective voyages. Also came down from the River mid proceeded, the Union, Wiight, for Ba thurst ; Wilton Castle, Canney, Jamaica; an.l Vulcan, Patrick, Tobago. Powirsmorru, MAY Wind Sto S.E., fine.—Saik'd the Samson, Sturges, for New York; and her Majesty's ship Lilly, for Rio Janeiro, The Newby, Williamson, in turning out of the harbour this morning. ran into her Majesty's hulk Blake, and the former lost her bowsprit and jib-boom. PLYMOUTH, MAI I.—Wind S.—Arrived her Majesty's ship Jupiter, from Barbadoes; and Concord, Martin, from Palermo. FALMOUTH, MAY I.—Wind S.E. to W.S. W., fresh breezes witkrain. —Arrived the City of Londonderry steamer, from Gibraltar —left the ioth tilt., Cadiz 14th, Lisbon 17th, Vigo 20th, and Corunna 28th. The Vesta, Cattermole, from Charleston for Breman, sailed on the 20th February; on the Ist of March, in lat. 29 16 N., long. 64 W., lost her ruddor. Arrived off port, the Ugelair, flout Messina; and Mary, from Leghorn . . Vessels spoken with—The schooner New Jane, of and for Plymouth, from Gallipoli; out fifteen days, on the 15th April, off Cape St. Vincent's; the ship Isabcila, or and for New• Orleans, 29th April, nut three days; and the schooner Industry, of Brixhman, from St. Michael's for London, out forty-five days, by the City of Londonderry. Livratrom., MAY ;2. Wind S. \V., light. Sailed the John Bentley, Robertson, for Quebec; Ceres, Blanchard, for Savannah; Orpheus, Bailey, for New York; Ellen, Tapp, for Calcutta, DOVER, Jiver 2.—Arrived off; the Burgomester, Schmidt, for the Havannah ; Glenalvon, boyes, for Sierra Leone. His'mos, MAY ‘2.-,-Arrived off the Vulture, Gilbert, •from Rio Jantho; Johanna, Garland, from Baltimore. Sm.comat , ,, MAY 2.—Arrived the Feronia, Jarvis, from Cadiz. Ar rived off, the Water-Lily, from Jamaica; Hersey, Marcia, from the 'Ulm: - Gambia. BRISTOL, MAY 2.—Arrived the James Constant, from Bordeaux. MILFott», MAN - 2,—Arrived the Hebe, Thompson, from Smyrna. Sumps, Mar Arrived the Argo, Cable., from Danzig. DUBLIN, Mar I. Arrived the Garonne, Richardson, from Cadiz. CORK, APKIL 30.—Arrived the Maria, Calcutta, and Stentor (transports), from London. Arrived off, the Don Juan, Butler, from Ha rbadoes. The Mary Catherine, Powdell, from Newcastle, was cm shore near Alexandria, March 23, and full of water. The Wen, from London, (ell over at St. Übes, Ist Wt., and being very leaky, was condemned. A COMPLIMENT.—Sir Geo. Walton had his flag or broad pendant flying at Spithead, when a nobleman in the neigh— bourhood sent his gamekeeper with half a fat buck. Sir George sent back a suitable message of thank; but the keeper begged the stoward to inform the Admiral that he expected a complement for himself. " A complement, does he ?" said the Admiral—who was more economical of his money than of his powder--" then he shall have one : go and tell the captain to salute him with five guns when he leaves the ship."-- Brenton's Life of St. Vincent. - - • Miss Fanny Wyndham leaves town on WednesdAv, for Edinburgh, having accepted an advantageous engagement from Mr. Mitchell, to perform with his Italian troupe in that city, and. the princi. pal towns of Scotland. Mr. Mitchell's success in Ireland has been of the moat satisfactory character. The Hon. Mr. and Mrs. Bouverie Primrose, late the Hon. Miss Frederica Anson, has been passing the honey:noon at Warrenwood, the beautiful scat of the Eatl of Rosebery, it - 1 Hertford. shire. The young couple are to reside chiefly at Edinbure t , where Mr. Primrose has an official appointment in:the Post-office. The Earl of Durham's extra Aide-de-Camp on board the Hastings is Captain Ponsonby, of the 7th Ftaileers. Ensign Cavendish, of the 59d Foot, son of the Clerk Marshal of the House .hold, has been appointed Aide.de-Camp to the Gi , vernor.General, vice the Hon: Captain Harry Gray, of the same corps, who, we understand, does not proceed to Canada. Yesterday afternoon an inquest was held at the City of Paris pul i ilic-house, Bishop Bonner's-tields, Bethnal-green, before Mr. Baker, the Coroner, and a respectable jury, on the body of John Brookes, aged 34 years. From the evidence adduced, it appeared that the deceased, who was keeper to a gentleman of fortune, at present in sane, on Mw .day evening, after 'securing, or placing in safety his charge for the night, left the house, and proceeded to his own resi. deuce, and, having changed his clothes for an older suit, left home, and was not seen alive again. At an early hour hit hat, with his ad dress written on a piece of paper in it, was found under one of the bridges of the Regent's canal, and, on a search being made, his body was found close to the spot, No reason could be assigned for the deceased destroying himself, further than that a few days before a distress was put into his house for a very trifling sum, and articles taken away for its amount, The circumstance, it appeared, though the amount of the debt could not be of the slightest object to him, gave him great uneasi. ness of mind. The Coroner remarked that there could be but little doubt that the deceased had committed suicide ; yet, as there was na evidence before them of the fact, he would recommend them to return, a verdict of " Found drowned'!—Verdict accordingly. THE GREAT MONTGOLFIER BALLOON, A n experimental trial of this immense machine was made yeste e d ay on the borders of Epping Forest, in the presence of the construr-cor and several scientific gentlemen connected with the undertaking, for the purpose of trying the effect of a newly-invented furnace, by which the balloon is to be filled with heated air, instead of the imperfect open brasier used by Montgolfier, Pilatre, Rozier, and others, l:.1 the original ascent from Paris some years since, By means of invention, the possibility of any spark coming in contact with ttre machine during its inflation is entirely avoided ; and although at one period of the experiment the temper a ture was raised to 20() degrees, not the slightest appearance of danger was visible. So powerful were the means used to obtain the necessary degree of rarefaction, that the vast machine was completely filled in eight minutes, and had then an ascending power of 1,2001b5., Oxilusive of the furnace and car, the latter of which alone weighs when adorned 3001b5., and is 15 feet long by 8 feet wide. Three persona as. tended to a considerable height, but were restrained front leaking an 4004 excursion, it being intended only to ascertain exac.lty the capabi lities of the balloon. All persons present. expressed themselves ex. tremely gratified by the perfect `.llcCess of the experiment. The first ascent isefilied to take plat:; „ n th e 15th of May, from the Surrey Z oo k ). gkcai Gardens, Whets',..ne builder, and two other gentlemen well versed aerostation ., • will ascend, of Ila } loon fixes great interest to th e new publica. T.';tE GREAT MONTGOLFIER L iALLOON.---The Mason, under the title of the " .N.ronatitica." and of accidents attending the fire t a i r o l i va o l f ef m t r h . is i4 sac k ie b lt m c lo o o n i t i ains h a , c d eo cp u e i n i d ts c o n f t otchethae-c,c.anittsie of the scientifi c d etails in this book, , the very curious descriptions and anecdotes which abound in its pages, with the clever and striking lithographs, renders the " .Eronautlea" the most interesting book published this season. . The Earl of Wilt" antl family atrived at. their new residence in Groavener.square, formerly the , abode of the late Earl of Bridgewetee, ibr,the season. The Noble Earl has been visited by no. ercilziary domesti calamities, having lost fiv e l ove l y c hild ren within X c few years,